Post-Coma Coulson
by tpt player 5701
Summary: Phil suddenly felt peace wash over him: His death could have a meaning, a purpose. He drew in another shaky breath, looked Fury in the eye and tried to explain his revelation, "It's okay, boss… This was never gonna work… if they didn't have… something to… to…" The world faded away as his vision went dark before he could finish the thought… to avenge…
1. Chapter 1

AN: This is the first chapter of a new story which takes place in the same universe as my other three stories. Chronologically, the first two sections of this chapter take place before "Avengers Plan B," and the rest of the story takes place after "Avengers Plan B" and roughly concurrently with "Stark's Security Situation." I will put in chapter references to "Stark's Security Situation" to give readers an idea of what's already happened in that story before the events of this story. If you haven't read my other stories yet, I highly recommend reading at least "Avengers Plan B" and "Stark's Security Situation" before reading this story.

I would like to thank all those who have read, followed, favorite, and reviewed my stories since I last wrote, and especially capt-rodgers, who's sent me two private messages wondering when I'm going to start writing again. I would have replied, but I thought writing this would be a much better response.

I already have this story complete now (8 chapters; my shortest yet), so there's won't be any delays in publishing. To let you know, I have ideas for at least four more longer stories, as well as a couple of possible one-shots, which I will work on writing, though I make no guarantees of when they will be published. I want to explore the origins for Ms. Marvel, Mockingbird, and Ant-Man from the Avengers Team B, as well as build on a loose end I left in "Team B to the Rescue." Beyond those four longer stories, I will see what I come up with, and what room the new Iron Man movie leaves to work it into my universe.

As usual, recognizable characters (and most of the unrecognizable ones) belong to Marvel; only the plot is original.

* * *

Phil leaned his head back against the cold, hard metal wall of the detention center. The searing pain in his abdomen was starting to fade. He almost couldn't feel where the alien scepter had torn through his heart and left lung. His vision was starting to cloud, so he started closing his eyes. _Maybe Tasha got to him_, he thought. _They need him_.

His eyelids were almost shut when he heard the familiar thudding of a pair of combat boots. He didn't have to look to know who it was.

"Sorry, boss," Phil wheezed, opening his eyes, looking up at the man in front of him, and blinking. "The god rabbited."

Nick Fury crouched directly in front of his fallen friend. "Just stay awake," he told the dying agent. "Eyes on me."

Phil looked the Director in the eye. The Director stared back at him unblinkingly. Phil put in the effort to force his eyelids back open all the way. "No, I'm clocking out here."

Nick held Phil's eyes in his steely gaze as he shook his head. "Not an option."

Phil suddenly felt peace wash over him: His death could have a meaning, a purpose. He drew in another shaky breath, looked Fury in the eye and tried to explain his revelation, "It's okay, boss… This was never gonna work… if they didn't have… something to… to…" The world faded away as his vision went dark before he could finish the thought. _to avenge…_

* * *

_Director Fury let the radio click silent._

_Medics clustered around the fallen agent's body. One forced a tube down his throat to keep it from closing. Another slipped an IV needle into place at the right elbow. A woman clasped a bracelet around the left wrist and hooked a pair of leads up to a heart rate monitor. The screen stayed blank._

_Director Fury turned away from the scene. He was the leader; he needed to remain in control, and that started with himself. _I've lost men in combat before. I'll lose them again. Later will be time to mourn; not now, not when the world is still in jeopardy._ He took a step toward the door._

"_We've got a pulse!" a medic shouted. Fury turned back to look at the cluster of medics. One was holding a defibrillator, and looking exultant. A pair of medics rolled Coulson's body to the side while a third man slid a backboard under him._

"_What's going on?" Nick Fury demanded of the medical team leader._

"_We've got him back," she replied tersely. "But he won't stay back if we don't get him to the medical wing now!"_

"_There's a lab two doors down already set up for medical testing. It's got everything you need. Take him there!" Fury ordered._

_The woman turned back to her team. "Lift him on my mark," she directed. "Mark!"_

_Four medics lifted the limp body between them, while the team leader held up a bag of fluids along with the monitor and trailed behind. Without another glance at the S.H.I.E.L.D. Director, the medical team hustled out of the chamber. Fury gave the bloodstain on the wall a calculating look before following them out._

* * *

"Welcome back, Agent," Nick Fury said.

Phil opened his eyes further and tried to turn his head to look at his boss.

"Don't try to move," Nick advised, putting a hand on the wounded man's shoulder.

"What… what happened?" Phil finally managed to wheeze out around his oxygen mask. He closed his eyes and sighed with the exertion.

"You died," Nick replied nonchalantly. "We thought you were gone, until Jones managed to get you back. Doc barely managed to get you put back together—it took him about 23 hours and 5 different surgeries to stabilize you, replace your heart, repair your lung, and put your chest cavity back together."

"How—?"

"Don't ask me." Nick shook his head. He reached for the water glass on the tray next to the bed, pulled Phil's oxygen mask down slightly, and held the glass to the agent's lips, saying, "You were damn lucky one of the agents who'd already died matched your blood type."

Coulson took a couple hesitant sips of water. When he was done, the glass was taken away and he felt the mask replaced over his nose and mouth. He opened his eyes and whispered, "Thanks. But I meant, how did we do?"

Nick looked him in the eye, grinned, and said, "They did it."

"Seriously? What happened?"

"Stark figured out where Loki was," Nick replied. "The damn god was on the roof of his tower. He, Cap, Romanoff, and Barton flew off to New York City to confront Loki."

"They got Clint back?" Phil asked hopefully, jerking up in the bed. He winced as pain tore through his chest and fell back against the pillows.

"Don't move," Nick said, repositioning the covers on the bed. "You don't want to reopen any of those stitches. Yes, they got Barton back. Romanoff fought him and knocked him out. He hit his head, and that broke Loki's control."

"I knew she could do it," Phil smiled, forcing himself to breath normally into the mask.

"She did it all right," Nick replied. "Thor and Banner met them all at Stark's tower. They arrived just in time for Loki to open his portal from its roof. His army arrived, and your team fought them off for a full 45 minutes on their own."

"They won? On their own?"

"Sort of," Nick grimaced. "The Council ordered a nuclear strike against the city to try and end the invasion, and I attacked with everything we had to stop them from ordering another one."

"Weren't you already attacking with everything we had?" Phil asked, raising his eyebrow. "Or did you—"

"Of course I had a Plan B," Nick said, giving his old friend a funny look. "How long have we known each other?"

"I'd ask why you didn't tell me, but I already know the answer," Phil observed wryly. "Spill it."

"Lt. Col. Rhodes," Nick said simply. "He, Danvers, Morse, and Lang met up with the Heroes for Hire in Battery Park. For never having worked as a team before, they didn't do too badly. Aside from nearly mutinying when I wouldn't let them fight sooner…"

"And…"

"And Marc Spector," Nick sighed. "I had him put together a backup team, and he took Doctor Strange, Agent Maximoff, and Bill Foster with him."

"_And_…" Phil prodded again.

"And what?"

Phil smirked.

"Fine," Nick groaned. "You know me too well. I had also called in the Black Panther, Prince Namor, and King Blackagar for a council of war right after Loki arrived. They showed up at the helicarrier right when the attack happened. Once I placated Namor and convinced Black Bolt of the necessity of helping us, all three kings agreed to help us out. They marshaled their forces on Governor's Island to wait until they were needed—did you know that Namor has _four divisions_ in Long Island Sound at all times? I may need to seriously rethink our alliance with Atlantis…"

"_And_…"

"And nothing," Nick replied, annoyed. "We managed to get a couple squadrons in the air after the battle was over, but that was it."

"Anything else?" Phil asked.

"Well, if worst came to worst, I considered plugging that portal with the boat and hoping for the best," Nick joked.

Phil grinned and closed his eyes for a moment. Finally opening them again, he asked, "Hang on, you said the Council tried to _nuke Manhattan?_"

"Is it so hard for you to believe after all these years working with them?"

"No. What's hard to believe is that you would even consider doing it," Phil said accusingly.

"I didn't. They overrode my order and launched the strike, anyways." Nick put his hand up to his forehead, shook his head, and said, "They even pulled the two planes on different decks trick to do it."

"What happened?"

"Stark grabbed the missile and personally escorted it through the portal to the other end of space. Blew the alien mothership to hell. Nearly didn't make it back for his trouble," Fury shook his head. "I honestly didn't think he had it in him."

"He didn't," Phil replied with a smile. "His assistant Ms. Potts, however, she can inspire that kind of sacrifice from him." He fell silent for a moment. Finally he asked, "Where are they now?"

"They were here to debrief yesterday morning, but they all left right after the memorial service for our dead—which included you, by the way. Thor took Loki and the Tesseract back to Asgard, Cap's off touring the world, Banner's in the wind, and I expect Stark and Ms. Potts are trying to fix up that tower. Barton and Romanoff are off the grid, though I suspect you know where they are," Fury noted with a look at his friend.

Phil closed his eyes and thought about warm sand and cool surf. He pictured a quaint little brown bungalow on the beach with a reinforced concrete foundation and armored panic room. The safe house in Florida was the first that his two agents had set up together, and easily Clint's favorite, especially after a particularly difficult mission. He nodded.

"I don't want to know," Nick said, reading Phil's face. "I ordered Barton to keep a low profile, and not to set foot on S.H.I.E.L.D. property for the foreseeable future. The Council must be even stupider than I thought—they ordered me to have his brain dissected as soon as Romanoff subdued him, on the off chance that it would reveal how Loki's mind control worked! Plus there's the threats. One of Maria's guard detail passed the information on to her that some of the agents were talking about it at dinner the day of the battle—and after the man saved the world, too. I saw the looks some of them were giving him at the memorial service. He's better off away from us for now. I ordered Romanoff to go straight to Stark's tower—or what's left of it, anyway—when they finish their mandatory vacation."

Phil gave him a look of surprise.

"Did you honestly think they could keep their relationship a secret from me?"

Phil leaned back into the surprisingly-soft bed and closed his eyes.

Nick stood up from his chair and nodded to the nurse standing by the door. She walked over to the bed, adjusted the IV drip, nodded to the Director, and left the room. As Phil fell into unconsciousness, he looked up at Fury, who said, "Get some rest. You've got a long road ahead of you."


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Thanks to Margaret and Marvel-Tolkien Fangirl for reviewing. Whether fortunately or unfortunately, I'll be updating every day (which means the entire story will be up Saturday). To Marvel-Tolkien Fangirl, I hadn't planned to put Quicksilver in my universe anywhere, though I may put in at least a reference in this story. Also, for as interesting as it would be to explore the idea of the Council all being Skrulls in disguise, that may be a little too much; I'm going for realism within the Marvel Cinematic Universe in my stories, and unless I'm mistaken there were always at least a few non-Skrulls in any groups that the Skrulls infiltrated.

This chapter happens after the events of "Stark's Security Situation," chapters 1-5, and references "Avengers Plan B," chapter 6.

* * *

"Agent Coulson! I'm glad to see you up and moving about," Director Fury observed a week later, walking into his friend's room. Phil Coulson was propped up in bed with two piles of papers neatly stacked in front of him.

"Well, I couldn't just sit around here and do nothing, could I?" Phil replied without looking up from the form in front of him.

"I'm going to need to debrief you and find out what you remember from the incident," Fury said, sitting down in his customary chair on the right side of the bed.

"I've already filled out my report, Director," Coulson answered, gesturing toward the stack on his right. "This stack of papers here has my incident report from the helicarrier attack, request for temporary medical leave, medical information form, and official request for all information classified Level 7 and below pertaining to the Battle of Manhattan."

"I will see to it that these get to the appropriate places," Fury nodded. "But I still need to hear your account."

"Very well," Coulson sighed in resignation.

Fury pulled out a video recording device, set it up on the bed's tray table, pointed it at Phil's face, thumbed a button, and said, "This is S.H.I.E.L.D. Director Nick Fury, authorization code HG-7142. Debrief interview with S.H.I.E.L.D. Supervisory Agent Phil Coulson, authorization code RS-7487. Eight days following the incident in question. Agent Coulson, describe the incident in detail, as much as you remember."

Coulson leaned back against the soft mattress of his hospital bed. He closed his eyes to think. Without opening them, he began to speak. "I was on the bridge when the explosion occurred, calling Dr. Bill Foster on the radio to get an update on the bio-sensor sweeps he'd been running to look for Agent Barton. The explosion made me lose my balance. I nearly fell, but I managed to catch myself on one of the consoles. I pulled myself up to my feet and Dr. Foster asked what was going on. I told him there had been an explosion, and he said he would get his suit and see what he could do. I told him to stay put."

"Why did you tell him to stay in the lab?" Fury asked.

"I figured that with his suit in the armory and him in the lab there wasn't much he could do. Actually, even _with_ his suit there wasn't much he could do in the confines of the ship," Phil replied. "I thought staying in the lab he could work on his scans and maybe recalibrate them to locate the enemy combatants on the ship."

"Shortly after the primary explosion, a short in the power grid caused a secondary explosion on Research Level 2 that took out his lab," Fury informed him. "Dr. Foster managed to get out, though. Continue."

"I drew my weapon and left the bridge, just as you gave me the order to secure the detention center. On leaving the bridge, I located a group of ten S.H.I.E.L.D. security personnel at the checkpoint waiting for orders. I ordered four to remain and guard that entrance to the bridge, and the other six to follow me to the detention center.

"On the way to the detention center we met a pair of hostiles wearing helicarrier maintenance personnel uniforms just outside the main hangar bay. One of them drew a handgun and shot at us before we realized they were hostiles. He winged one of my guys, Roberts, I think, in the arm with his first shot, and missed with the others. I took that hostile out right away with a head shot, and one of my other guys took out the last one. One of the security guys, a medic, treated Roberts while the rest of us went in to secure the hangar and check for more hostiles. A civilian—Marc Spector; I've worked with him a few times in the past—had just landed there, and I was in a hurry, so I told him to coordinate the security guys in a sweep of the hangar. Once he was set there, I left to secure the armory before going to the detention level. When I got to the armory, I grabbed the experimental New Mexico weapon for tactical backup, set the armory in Level 7 lockdown mode, and went to secure the detention level."

"Describe the scene when you arrived at the detention center," Fury ordered.

"Loki stood by the control panel. Thor was trapped inside the detention cell. A member of Loki's strike team stood with his back to the entrance watching the scene. Loki was looking at Thor and said something to the effect of, 'The humans think us immortal—shall we test that?'" Phil recounted.

"What did you do?"

"My first priority was stopping Loki from ejecting Thor, scattering the team further, and potentially killing him. My second priority was subduing Loki—"

"Why in that order?" Fury asked. "For the record," he clarified.

"Ever since I became a Supervisory Agent, my priority always has been and always will be the safety of my team. If my people are still alive, there's always another chance at completing the mission; if they are killed, the mission is blown, anyways," Coulson explained, opening his eyes and looking directly into the camera as he said it.

"What did you do?"

"I knocked out the hostile with my weapon and leveled it at Loki, initializing the warm-up sequence as I did so. I ordered him, 'Move away, please.' I knew I had little chance against him with an experimental prototype weapon, particularly one that hadn't been field-tested yet, so I decided to try stalling him until Iron Man or Captain America could come and back me up. So I started talking about the weapon to buy myself some time," Phil described, closing his eyes again. He suddenly stopped, a grimace of pain spreading across his face.

"How did it happen?" Fury prodded after a moment, surprisingly gently.

"Hell if I know, boss," Phil shook his head. "One minute I'm talking to Loki and staring right at him, and the next moment Loki's stabbing me in the back with his spear. The one I was looking at must have been some sort of holographic projection, but when he created it, I don't know."

"So he stabbed you…"

"It was like nothing I've ever felt before," Phil shuddered. "I've been shot, stabbed, beaten; I even jumped on a live grenade in Kuwait to save my squadmates in Desert Storm. None of that compares to being stabbed by Loki. The pain was excruciating when the spear tore through my heart and lung. When he pulled the spear out, I went limp and collapsed back against the wall. Loki walked over to the control panel, pushed the button, and Thor dropped out of sight."

"There was nothing you could do at that point," Fury observed.

"I know," Phil nodded. "After ejecting Thor, Loki turned to leave. I knew I had to try to keep him there as long as possible. I could feel myself going lightheaded from blood loss and lack of oxygen, but I still managed to tell him, 'You're going to lose.'"

"You're dying, but you're still trying to do your job," Fury observed

"What else could I do?" Phil asked rhetorically. "I couldn't let him leave the room before someone could get there and do what I failed to do. If he left, he won that battle and had a free shot at opening his portal; if he stayed, someone could recapture him, or else he might get killed if the carrier crashed. So I reinitialized the warm-up sequence on the gun and stalled him by attacking the one thing I could: his pride."

"How did he respond?"

"He turned to laugh at me," Phil answered. "He started going on about how he was going to win and that he had us on the ropes. 'Where is my disadvantage?' he asked."

"And…"

"And I said the first thing that came to mind: 'You lack conviction.' When he started to argue the point, I fired my weapon and blasted him out of the chamber through the wall. Shortly thereafter you entered the detention center and found me," Phil finished.

"Debrief interview with Agent Phil Coulson, concluded," Fury intoned, shutting off the recorder. "I'll make sure this gets added to the Council's file on the helicarrier attack, particularly the part about making your people's lives a priority," Fury noted with some bite.

"Well, someone should," Phil replied bitterly. "We both know the Council won't."

Fury picked up the recorder and returned it to his pocket. He picked the stack of completed paperwork up from the bed, rose to his feet, and turned toward the door. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, take a break from your paperwork to get some rest," he ordered with some amusement.

"Yes, sir," Phil replied, picking up the other stack and putting it on the bedside table. He leaned back into the cushions on his bed and closed his eyes. "Doc said he might start me on some light physical therapy in a couple days."

"Good," Fury replied approvingly. "I need you back." He took a step toward the door before turning back to face his friend and saying, "Oh, you'll never guess what your buddy Stark's been up to since the incident."

"Oh?" Phil responded absentmindedly without opening his eyes.

"He invented you."

"What?" Phil's eyes opened and he gave Fury a questioning look.

"He created a security robot that looks and talks exactly like you," Fury said, humorously. "I met it the other day when I went to debrief Stark. Hill and I walk into the tower lobby and who do we see walking around like nothing's happened? You. I walk over to him, grab his arm, drag him onto the elevator, and calmly wait for the doors to close."

"I can imagine what happened next…" Phil grinned.

"My first thought on seeing him was the warning Black Bolt gave us about alien species capable of shapeshifting," Fury explained. "I figure it's probably a Chitauri or something. So I whip out my gun and shoot the imposter in the heart."

"And nothing happened?"

"Oh, something happened, alright," Fury replied, pausing for dramatic effect. He shook his right hand and continued, "The bullet tears through the guy's suit and shirt before flattening into a pancake and falling to the floor. And a bolt of fire comes out of the thing's forehead and slags my gun. It hits me in the wrist just hard enough to give me a dead arm, and then calmly leans back against the elevator wall like nothing happened."

"Nice," Phil said appreciatively.

"Oh, that's nothing," Fury replied dismissively. "Apparently Banner's been there since the incident, and he Hulked out when he met the robot!"

"Even better!" Phil laughed, stopping a moment later and putting his hand on his chest above his heart. He winced, but forced himself to take a deep breath. A minute later he looked back at Fury and asked, "So how did Stark explain himself?"

Fury gave him an uncharacteristically concerned look before answering. "He called it the 'Variable Integrated Security: Identification, Observation, Neutralization' System, or 'VISION' for short," he said. "He said he designed it to be able to respond to any security threat, including an alien demi-god setting up shop on the roof."

"But why'd he want it to look like me?" asked Phil.

"Apparently, he thinks that you would blend in with the people in the tower," Fury observed. "That and he's mourning your 'death.'"

"My 'death'? You didn't tell them?" Phil questioned.

"Well, considering how well your death gelled the team together, I didn't want to mess with that chemistry, so we… buried a life-model decoy of you the morning after the battle," admitted Fury.

"So am I supposed to just play dead for the rest of my life, Nick?" Phil demanded.

"If we don't think they still need the push, we can reveal what happened at any time," Fury replied definitively.

"Can I at least call Barton and Romanoff and tell them?" Phil asked hopefully.

"No," averred Fury. "If you make any contact with them, the Council will know. They put a tracker program on the boat's computer systems the day after the battle. It'll recognize either of their voice patterns on any S.H.I.E.L.D.-issue phone, or on any phone on S.H.I.E.L.D. property, triangulate their location, and let them track Barton down. Believe it or not, not contacting them is the best thing you can do for him right now."

"Fine, but when they find out, I'm blaming it on you."


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Thanks to Marvel-Tolkien Fangirl and Qweb for reviewing the last chapter. Glad you enjoyed that look into a little more of my additions to the battle in _The Avengers_!

This chapter takes place following the events of "Stark's Security Situation," chapters 6-9.

* * *

"Come on, Coulson, you gotta push it a little further!" encouraged the physical therapist.

"Oh yeah, Sue, well how about I stab _you_ in the heart with an alien spear and we'll see how many reps _you_ can do!" Phil grumbled, completing another repetition as he did so.

Susan gave Phil a look and said, "Considering that you've been able to do paperwork for the past week, I think you should be able to lift up a book."

"Yeah, but I thought you were going to have me doing something easy, like _Cat in the Hat_, not starting me off with the Oxford English Dictionary!" he retorted.

"Just one more; you gotta beat your previous record," Susan urged. Phil complied, dropping the book back onto the bed the moment he had lifted it above his head.

"That's the spirit! Now let's see about getting your legs working some; we don't want any of your muscles to atrophy."

"I'll show _you_ atrophy," Phil muttered under his breath.

"Coulson, you've got a visitor!" a nurse interrupted, sticking her head in the room.

"I thought the Director wasn't allowing me to have any visitors aside from him, Hill, and Agent Conway," Phil observed with a look toward the door. "And she's already here, and Hill and Director Fury never wait to be announced."

"This is a… special… circumstance," replied the nurse, backing out of the entrance. She was replaced by Director Fury.

"One of Thor's people is here to memorialize everyone who was killed two weeks ago," Fury informed him. "Apparently Thor told her to take a special interest in you. We took her to the 'grave,' but she immediately turned on me and nearly cut my head off with her sword. Something about not sensing the noble dead there. She demanded to know what we had done with your body, and wouldn't take 'no' for an answer."

"Considering that the _last_ Asgardian I met put me in here, is this such a good idea?" Phil asked, rubbing his scar and giving the doorway a hesitant glance.

"A better idea than _not_ letting her in!" Fury responded with a look.

As Fury finished speaking, a blond-haired woman pushed past him into the room. She wore a gleaming steel breastplate, leather chaps, and combat boots. A royal-blue cape billowed behind her. Her right hand rested on the hilt of the broadsword hanging from her belt in its sheath.

"This is the brave Son of Coul about whom my lord Thor spoke so highly?" the woman asked imperiously. "My lord Thor will be gladdened to know that you are in fact alive." She suddenly stopped and took a closer look at Phil. "I sense a strange aura around you," she said slowly.

"What do you mean?" Phil asked nervously, leaning back into his bed a little further as he did so.

"I see an aura of death around you, but it is old: that death has both come to pass and been averted," the woman responded. "However, I also see another aura of death that has come to pass, an unknowing sacrifice. That death has happened." She turned to confront the Director, gestured toward the bed, and demanded, "What is this? What has happened to this man?"

Director Fury cleared his throat and said, "When Loki stabbed Agent Coulson, the scepter went straight through his heart and took a piece off his left lung. His heart managed to keep pumping for a few minutes, long enough to shoot Loki with a weapon we made based on the parts we recovered after Thor destroyed your Destroyer 18 months ago. However, his damaged heart finally gave out a few minutes later."

"I understand so far," the woman observed, sliding her sword a few inches out of its sheath and continuing to glare at the Director. "Now do me the honor of explaining what you did with this man's body after his death."

"Our medics managed to restart his heart a couple minutes later. It was too damaged to pump long, but lasted just long enough for them to get him to an operating room. They put him on a heart bypass machine to continue circulating his blood, and replaced his heart with that of another agent who had died in the attack," Fury explained.

"I see," the woman said evenly without looking away. "You meddled with his body and interfered with his death."

"Death hadn't set in permanently. We have ways of saving people even after their hearts have stopped. We saw this as saving his life," Fury answered calmly.

"That is a practice which is forbidden on Asgard," the woman replied, loosening her sword further from its sheath. "If an Asgardian warrior is wounded in battle, our healers will strive to preserve his life by all means available to them. However, if a warrior has died in the battle, we accord him a greater honor, particularly if he dies in a noble manner. We would never consider restoring a slain warrior to life; it would diminish the honor of his sacrifice."

"We accord honor to our heroes because of the act itself and its result, not because of the hero's death," explained Phil. "From what I understand of the battle, my friend Tony Stark took a nuclear warhead through Loki's portal into outer space and positioned it to destroy the Chitauri mother ship, singlehandedly ending the battle, at the greatest conceivable risk to himself. He almost died in space and was left to drift on the far end of the universe; only a miracle saved him. We honor him for the act just as much because he survived as we would have if he had been killed. In fact, a warrior who accomplishes a heroic feat like that and survives receives even greater honor."

"Very well," the woman said, looking over at Phil and releasing her sword hilt, allowing the sword to slide back into its sheath with a clang. "I was unaware of my host's part in ending the battle, or the great sacrifice he almost made in doing so. I will accept your reasoning and defer to your understanding, provided," she turned on Director Fury, "that you can assure me you did nothing unnatural with this warrior's body to snatch him back from the jaws of death."

"Nothing more than our usual science," Fury promised.

Very well, I am satisfied, though your friend Stark's memorial to Agent Coulson would seem to be somewhat premature given the circumstances." The woman looked back at the man in the bed, studied him further, and said, "I take it that the unknowing sacrifice was that of the agent whose heart lives on in the Son of Coul?"

"You're the one seeing the aura, so you tell me," Fury replied sardonically.

"The aura seems to center around Agent Coulson's chest, so that seems likely," observed the woman, studying the agent further. She looked up and asked, "Tell me, where is the body of that noble agent?"

"As we've already shown you, some of our slain agents' bodies were released to their families for burial," Fury answered. "However, many of our agents do not have families. Our policy is to bury all those without family ties in Stanley's Field, our Division's section of Arlington National Cemetery. That particular agent is buried there."

"In that case, I shall perform the ceremonies in your Field over all the fallen," the woman decided, turning toward the door.

"Hang on," Phil called out, sitting up in the bed, "You still haven't told me your name."

"I am Brunnhilde of Asgard, leader of the Valkyrior," the woman replied, turning back to face the bed. "My warrior women are responsible for the burial ceremonies over the noble dead, both those of Asgard and those noble warriors who perish while fighting at our side. I am called Valkyrie."

"I am honored to meet you, Valkyrie," Phil said deferentially. "I hope we will not often have need of your services!"

* * *

A small group gathered in a restricted section on the grounds of Arlington National Cemetery. A man in a black trench coat stood ramrod straight with his arms clasped behind his back. Next to him was a wheelchair. The man in the wheelchair sat as straight as he could, wearing a jacket over his hospital gown to protect against the chilly morning air. Around the pair clustered a half-dozen black-suited men in sunglasses with earwigs barely visible in their right ears.

In front of the group stood a large marble obelisk, polished to such a sheen that the sunrise's reflected rays nearly blinded the observers. Behind the obelisk ran a line of freshly-dug graves. Between the observers and the monument stood a tall blonde woman in a burnished steel breastplate and leather chaps, looking past them eastward, toward where the sun was starting to rise. Her long, uncovered hair fanned out behind her in the morning breeze, accentuated by the billowing royal blue cape. When the sun rose high enough for the rays to hit the top of her breastplate, the light ran down the lines of runes down its sides, causing them to turn gold and glow.

Valkyrie stood at attention, as she had all night, holding her sword vertical in front of her. The instant the sunlight hit the sapphire pommel stone on her sword hilt, the entire sword shone brilliant gold and sent a beam of golden light straight up the sword into the sky. Valkyrie spun around and pointed her broadsword at the marble obelisk. The golden beam of light struck the obelisk in the center and expanded to engulf the entire monument. In an instant it reached the tip, from which another beam shot up into the sky. At the same time it reached the base, and beams of light spread out through the ground, barely visible under the surface, and shot toward the fresh graves behind it. Several beams from the obelisk moved out in other directions and disappeared over the horizon.

The observers turned their eyes away from the intensity of the light for a moment. When the light dimmed a minute later, they looked back at the obelisk. It had turned jet black and was now covered with golden runes on all four sides shining bright gold in the sunlight. Looking past the obelisk, they saw a pair of golden runes shining through the soil covering each grave. The runes shone brilliantly for a moment in the sunlight before fading out.

"The runes on the obelisk tell the tale of your victory over Loki, and the part that each of your slain warriors played in it," Valkyrie explained without turning away from the obelisk. She sheathed her sword, turned toward the assembled S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, and continued, "The beams of light sealed the coffins of all the agents who died in the battle shut to prevent anyone from tampering with their bodies. The runes you saw on the graves are each agent's name and 'hero.' Every year on the anniversary of the battle, when the first rays of the rising sun hit the tip of the obelisk at sunrise, a beam of light will shoot up into the heavens from the tip of the obelisk and the runes on the agents' graves and on the obelisk will glow golden for five minutes."

"Thank you," Fury said, extending a hand to the woman.

She gave the hand a look before taking it. As they shook hands, Valkyrie held her sword up in front of her and solemnly declared, "I hereby join my lord Thor in placing your planet under my protection. If your people are ever faced again by an alien force which you cannot match, I will personally lead the Valkyrior into battle at your side. My people will not leave you to face these threats alone again."


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Thanks to Marvel-Tolkien Fangirl, Qweb, and LalaithElerrina for reviewing since I last posted. Valkyrie was actually fun to write. Since the Asgardians (at least the way I wrote them, and from what I gathered from _Thor_) honor their fallen warriors, I was wondering how they would react to the idea of restoring a fallen warrior to life. I think coming up with a good techno-magical way for Valkyrie to memorialize fallen warriors was one of my favorite parts of writing this story. One of them.

This chapter takes place after the events of "Stark's Security Situation," chapter 10, and roughly concurrently with those of chapters 11-12.

* * *

"All Avengers personnel report to the main hangar bay in five minutes! Code Delta 34 Orange!"

Phil Coulson looked up from his exercise bike in surprise at the announcement. He stopped pedaling, wiped the sweat from his brow, and swung his legs over the side of the bike. He planted his feet and started to rise.

"Where do you think you're going?" Susan demanded, looking up from the other side of the bike.

"You heard the announcement: 'All Avengers personnel,'" Phil replied, picking up his button-down shirt and slipping it on. "In case you forgot, I _am_ Avengers personnel."

"Not right now, you're not," Susan responded, standing up from her stool. "Right now you're Phil the injured agent, and I'm your physical therapist. And you need to finish your therapy."

"Did you hear that announcement?" Phil demanded, gesturing toward the speaker. He stood up and slid his suit pants on over his black exercise shorts. "'Delta' means that a S.H.I.E.L.D. or Avengers dependant is in danger. '34' means a hostage situation. 'Orange' means an imminent threat of unknown proportions. That means someone I know is in danger. I'm going whether you like it or not."

"Fine," Susan acquiesced, putting her hands up in surrender. "I guess we can finish the session tomorrow." She stepped around the exercise bike and took Phil's arm. "But you need to take the wheelchair, just in case."

"Fine," Phil sighed, sliding his jacket on and pulling a black tie out of the pocket. He started knotting it as he said, "Now can I get going? I don't want to miss my flight."

"Well, sit down," Susan answered, taking a hold of the handles. Phil sat down on the wheelchair, and Susan pushed him out the door.

* * *

"Do you have room for one more?" Phil called into the quinjet's cabin as Susan pushed him up the loading ramp.

"What the hell—Coulson?" Carol Danvers spun around from her place in the pilot's chair. Bobbi Morse similarly turned around in the copilot's chair to stare at the apparition at the entrance to the quinjet. Along the benches, three pairs of eyes gaped at Phil with similar expressions of shock. At that moment the elevator kicked in and started pushing the quinjet up toward the hangar roof.

Only Agent Hill showed no surprise at Phil's appearance. "Did Director Fury authorize this?" she demanded, rising from her place on the bench.

"Not specifically, but the call _was_ for 'All Avengers personnel,' so here I am," Phil replied.

"Wait, you knew about this?" Scott Lang accused, turning to face Hill. "When were you going to tell us he was still alive?"

"You know," Hill replied, shaking her head, "I don't think the Director ever figured that part out. When you all left on leave after the battle, we weren't sure how his recovery would go, or if he would even survive. That's part of why he didn't tell you then. When you got back… the Director still hadn't decided how to break it. Yes, Agent Coulson survived. He needed a heart transplant from one of the other agents who died, and things were pretty rocky for the first week or so, but he's still alive. He's actually been in rehab with Agent Conway for the past two weeks." She indicated Susan, who was attaching the wheelchair locks embedded in the quinjet's floor to the wheels.

"If you'd told us what was going on, we could have helped with his recovery," Wanda Maximoff said, indicating Dr. Bill Foster, who nodded energetically.

"They needed far more help in the main medical bay during the battle, and we couldn't spare you from there, especially not when Coulson's case was already so hopeless to begin with. By the time you got there, it would have been over one way or the other: either Coulson would have been stable or he'd have been dead. And then, by the time Coulson was stable enough for transplant, the two of you were out flying around with Marc Spector escorting VIPs and shooting up alien speeders, so there wasn't any way for either of you to help him then, either," retorted Hill angrily.

"But after the battle—"

"—You went off to visit your brother and Dr. Foster here went to pay a visit to Dr. Pym in California," interrupted Hill. "Our top surgeons were already working on repairing his chest, and he did not need your brand of… healing… anymore."

"So can we get going already?" Phil asked. "And what the hell is going on, anyways?"

"Danvers, lift off," Hill ordered, turning to the pilot. Agent Danvers pressed the button to raise the ramp just as Susan hopped down out of the quinjet. When the ramp was shut, Danvers reached for the hover controls.

"Hang on," Lang said suddenly. Danvers' hand stopped an inch from the control, and everyone turned to look at him. "We can get going as long as you can promise that you're not really Loki wearing Agent Coulson's face."

Hill, Danvers, Morse, and Maximoff just gave Lang a confused and horrified look. Dr. Foster snorted. When Maximoff turned to confront him, he just said, "What? Haven't you seen _Face/Off_?"

"Considering that Loki's a good foot and a half taller than me I think we can safely rule that possibility out, Scott," Phil observed with a smirk. "Besides, I don't look a thing like Nicholas Cage _or_ John Travolta. Although," he continued, giving the agent an amused look, "if you need any more proof, I think I've got enough dirt on you to convince you who I am!"

"No, that's fine," Lang averred.

"Unless anyone else has any doubts, lift off," Hill ordered again. The quinjet shuddered as it rose from the helicarrier deck and turned north.

"So, about that sit-rep…" Phil prodded once they were moving.

Hill took a moment before answering, "It's Pepper Potts. Our electronic surveillance snooper bots picked up this e-mail yesterday." She handed Phil a tablet.

Phil quickly scanned through the e-mail and handed the tablet back before saying, "It's nothing."

"Would you still say it's nothing if you knew that this e-mail was sent from an internet café just outside Avengers Tower using a state-of-the-art privately-created electronic encryption program?" Hill asked.

"That seems like a lot of work to do to hide a request for grandma to come over for some tea after a car accident," observed Phil.

"That's what our techs thought," Hill responded. "So they did some more digging into the subject's other e-mails. See here? 'Karter Tows' is an anagram for 'Stark Tower.' They believed it was a coded message. Cross-referencing with the other correspondence showed that the person was using this code to set up an attack against someone connected to the Avengers. We informed Captain Rogers and the others at the Tower immediately, so they've been on alert."

"So what's with the call-out?" asked Phil.

"We were just informed that Pepper Potts went shopping, and less than an hour after she arrived, a group of armed men showed up at the store. They shut off all wireless communication in the area, and we haven't heard anything since," Hill informed him.

"What's the plan?" Phil asked her with a serious look.

"Team A flew off to deal with the situation," Hill answered. "Rhodes was already at the Tower, so he's holding down the fort. Spector and the Heroes for Hire should already be there, and we're going to meet them there in a few minutes."

"We're bringing out the heavy artillery for this, I see," Phil observed.

"Well, Cap wasn't sure what to expect at the department store, and he didn't want to leave the Tower undefended or go in without a backup plan, so we're handling it as a Code Orange," Hill responded briskly.

"Any chance of an update on the situation?" Phil asked.

Morse turned her head and said, "Black Widow just reported in to tell us that Team A is less than a block out from the store. We should arrive at the tower in ten minutes."

"Better call in and inform War Machine of our status," Hill decided.

"Avengers Tower, this is Avenger Two," Morse spoke into the radio.

"I copy, Two," Rhodes' voice filled the cabin. "What's your status?"

"We are less than ten minutes out from the Tower," Morse reported.

"Moon Knight just landed his helicopter on the secondary landing platform offsite, and he and the Heroes for Hire are on the elevator at this moment. I'll extend the landing platform for you," answered Rhodey.

* * *

Five minutes later, the Tower came into view. The 121st and 122nd floors of the Tower were already fully extended, forming a landing platform. A quinjet and Huey rescue helicopter rested on the platform closer to the Tower, leaving enough space on the outside for Agent Danvers to maneuver their quinjet in and land. Rhodes stood on the platform in his War Machine armor, and walked up to the loading ramp the moment Danvers lowered it. He strode up into the cabin to greet his team.

"Looks like they won't be needing us after all, people," Rhodey said, raising his faceplate. "Tony just reported that the hostage situation is over; they're only cleaning things up now. They'll be back in thirty minutes or so." Suddenly he stopped and stared at the man in the wheelchair.

"Colonel, you're making me feel uncomfortable," Phil observed with a smirk, looking back into the armored man's eyes.

"When I talked to Tony less than a minute ago, you were out searching for the sniper with Thor," Rhodey said in confusion, "and now suddenly you're on the quinjet with the rest of my team?"

"Didn't you know I can be in two places at once?" joked Phil.

"JARVIS, where is the VISION android?" Rhodey asked suspiciously.

"The VISION android is currently in Manhattan searching for the sniper," responded the electronic voice from Rhodey's helmet, just loud enough for Phil to hear.

"Tell me Tony didn't make _another_ one," Rhodey said.

"That is a negative, sir," JARVIS answered.

"So what the hell's going on, now?" Rhodey asked rhetorically, activating his mini-gun and bringing it to bear on the man in the wheelchair.

"I'm disappointed you don't remember me, Colonel Rhodes," Phil laughed.

"Oh, I remember you, all right," Rhodey responded evenly. "I remember being at your memorial service, and then I remember you walking into the penthouse and startling Banner into a transformation that same night."

"I did what?" asked Phil.

"You showed up from the grave," Rhodey answered. "Bruce went from shock to confusion to anger in about 10 seconds, and then tore the penthouse apart. Again."

"The Director mentioned something about that," Phil said with a laugh. "But it wasn't me; I'm pretty sure I was still in a coma on the helicarrier at the time."

"Hill, what's going on here?" demanded Rhodey, looking over at the other S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

"Rhodes, this is Agent Phil Coulson," Hill responded resignedly. "Surprise."

"So, are either of you going to explain this?" Rhodey shot back.

"He survived," Hill said simply, "though the Director didn't know it until after he'd announced that Coulson was dead. The Director hoped that the trauma of his death would be the glue to bring Team A together. Of course, as soon as he'd announced it, one of the medics managed to restart Phil's heart. It was just enough for them to get him into an operating room, where they gave him a heart transplant."

"So this _is_ the real Agent Phil Coulson?" Rhodey asked. "It's not another robot?"

"Nope, I'm the real Coulson," Phil responded wryly.

"Oh, good," observed Rhodey with a short laugh, deactivating the mini-gun. "I can't wait to see how Team A's going to react to this!"


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Thanks to Marvel-Tolkien Fangirl and Qweb for reviewing the last chapter.

This chapter begins shortly before "Stark's Security Situation," chapter 13, and cuts off roughly halfway through that chapter. That's where you'll find the answer to Phil's final question.

* * *

"Sir, Mr. Stark, Ms. Potts, Captain Rogers, Dr. Banner, and Agents Romanoff and Barton just arrived," JARVIS reported thirty minutes later. The members of Avengers Teams B and C had been sitting in the penthouse while they waited for the others to return. Phil glanced around at the others before shooting Agent Hill a nervous look.

"How long until they get up here?" Rhodey asked, reading Phil's mind.

"Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts just landed on the penthouse landing pad, which is in the process of removing Mr. Stark's suit. They will be in shortly. Captain Rogers, Dr. Banner, and Agents Romanoff and Barton just parked the Hover-Vee in the Avengers parking area and entered the elevator. They will reach the penthouse level in a couple minutes," JARVIS answered immediately.

At that moment, the penthouse balcony door opened and Tony Stark walked in with his arm protectively wrapped around a bedraggled Pepper Potts' waist. "Fine," Tony was saying. "If you're so opposed to the idea of flying, next time you get nearly taken hostage you can take the Hover-Vee back to the Tower."

"It's not that I'm opposed to flying," Pepper responded, as they entered the room. "I'm just opposed to the idea of being carried by a man in a metal suit when there's nothing between me and a fall to my death except your arms!"

"Do you honestly think I would drop you or something?" Tony shot back incredulously. He smirked and gave a snort of laughter.

Pepper opened her mouth to argue the point further. Before she could say anything, she stopped, looked around the room, took in the crowd staring back at her, and then glanced down at her dress.

"Tony, I think you forgot to tell me we were having all this company," she whispered to him.

"Cap thought it would be a good idea to bring in the gang," Tony whispered back. "Just in case it turned out to be more than just a hostage situation."

Pepper looked around at everyone in the room and with forced calmness said, "Please excuse me for a moment, everyone. I just spent about 45 minutes in a filthy air vent, and I need to go take a shower and change into something less… greasy." Pepper started to walk through the penthouse toward the bedroom. Suddenly she stopped in front of Phil's wheelchair, looked at him in confusion, and said, "Vision? I thought you were still out with Thor searching."

"Are we going to do this again?" Phil asked rhetorically, glancing at the others in the room. He saw Lang's smirk and Rhodey's shrug, and rolled his eyes. Finally he looked back at the redhead in front of him and said, "I'm hurt that after all we've been through in the past two years you would see me and immediately think I'm an android. This may come as a shock to you, but I'm actually not Vision."

Pepper turned away, looked at Tony, pointed an accusing finger at the wheelchair, and said, "Tony, if this is yet another of your robots, you're going to be sleeping on the couch for the next month!"

"JARVIS—?" Tony demanded, throwing his hands up defensively.

"The VISION android is currently flying back to the Tower with Thor," JARVIS replied promptly. "Their search did not reveal any new information about the sniper at the department store. And before you ask, this is not S.H.I.E.L.D.'s attempt at creating a version of the Variable Integrated Security: Identification, Observation, Neutralization System; it is, in fact, the real Agent Phil Coulson."

"This is—Phil's—but—oh, my God!" Pepper sputtered, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. She took the last two steps to close the distance between her and the wheelchair, pulled Phil up, threw her arms around him, and hugged him. Phil awkwardly patted her back just as the elevator doors opened and Steve, Bruce, Clint, and Natasha entered the room.

"We're back," Steve announced, looking around the room at the other Avengers. Suddenly his eyes stopped on Phil. "What's going on here?" he demanded.

"As usual, you got to have all the fun and we got to use Stark's Netflix," Lang joked from his place reclining on the sofa.

Steve ignored him and continued to stare at where Pepper was embracing Phil. "Vision? How fast can you fly? When we arrived you and Thor were still a mile out," he commented. Then he glanced around the room again and asked, "And where's Thor?"

"Seriously?" Phil groaned, looking over to where Tony still stood slackjawed on the other side of the room. He let go of Pepper and sat back down in his wheelchair. "Is your android _really_ that accurate?"

Tony continued to stare for another minute. Eventually, he shook his head, collected himself, and said, "Hey, of course he's accurate; I made him, remember?" Tony turned to look at Steve, Bruce, and the two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. He sighed and said, "This isn't Vision; somehow it's actually Agent Coulson. Apparently the Pirate King was lying to us when he said Phil died on the helicarrier. Although," he continued, rounding on Hill and Coulson, "that doesn't exactly excuse not telling us for the last month!"

Hill sighed and said, "It wasn't strictly inaccurate when Director Fury told you he'd been killed. His heart stopped, he stopped breathing, and he really was dead for 2 minutes and 14 seconds. One of the medics managed to shock his heart back into action, and it lasted just long enough for them to get him into a lab and hook him up to an artificial heart. He got a heart transplant as soon as he was stable enough for it, and since then he's been in recovery."

"And when were you going to tell us all this?" Tony demanded, glaring at her.

"You know, I've actually been wondering the same thing," Phil added, giving his fellow agent a look.

"Ask the Director," Hill replied heatedly.

"Dr. Banner, you've been rather quiet," Phil said, looking over at the three people still standing at the entrance in shock. Natasha and Clint were both giving him identical looks of surprise and confusion; Clint's betrayed a hint of disappointment as well. He couldn't do anything for them at this moment; he turned and looked at Bruce Banner, whose face displayed pure shock and bewilderment. "Considering what the Director told me, I really hope you're not going to Hulk out and start smashing things up; I don't have a tranquilizer missile in my arm to stop you! But I suppose it would serve Mr. Stark right!"

Bruce took a deep breath and closed his eyes for ten seconds. When he opened his eyes, they were back to their normal shade and had lost their green tinge. "I'm just glad that you're alive," Bruce said finally.

"Hang on, what did _I_ do?" Tony interjected suddenly, rounding on Phil furiously. "_I_ wasn't the one who said you had died after Loki escaped. _I_ wasn't the one who forgot to mention that you were still alive the day after the battle. _I_ wasn't the one who went to confront Loki with nothing but an untested experimental weapon!"

"Why, Stark, I didn't realize you cared!" Phil observed with a smirk, looking over at the inventor.

Tony was saved from answering by the sound of repulsors coming through the still-open door to the penthouse landing pad. Phil looked over at the door and watched Thor walk in with a green-and-gold android with a dark red face.

"So _this_ is the android that Director Fury was telling me about!" Phil laughed, getting up from his wheelchair and walking over to meet the two newcomers. He gave the android an appraising look from top to bottom before looking back over at Tony. "He doesn't look a thing like me!"

"So the brave Son of Coul lives!" Thor bellowed, throwing out his hands to pull Phil into an embrace.

"Of course I live, 'Donald,'" Phil replied, raising an eyebrow at him and taking a step back to avoid Thor's bone-crushing hug. "Didn't think you could get rid of me _that_ easily, did you?"

"I have to say, Phil," Tony interrupted, taking a good look at the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent for the first time, "I would have thought that getting stabbed through the chest with an alien scepter would be pretty permanent."

"Oh, it is," Phil grimaced, unbuttoning the top four buttons of his shirt and pulling the left half to the side to reveal a long, nasty scar running down his chest directly over his heart. "This thing is going to be here forever to remind me of your brother, Thor."

"I deeply apologize for my brother's actions, my brave friend," Thor said apologetically. "I hope that his actions have not irreparably damaged your opinion of my people."

"On the contrary, I admire your people more because you were so willing to fight for us against your own brother. I am honored to fight alongside you," Phil said with a smile. He turned back toward the inventor, took a couple steps, and said, "Now Stark, you still haven't answered my question: This green-and-gold thing is supposed to look like me?"

"Not right now I'm not," Vision responded with a smirk, walking further into the room, stopping right in front of Phil, and activating his disguise function. "But how about now?" he asked.

Phil stared at his android doppelganger as a white dress shirt and new Captain America tie deployed out of a compartment in its back and settled into place around its green-and-gold chest. The shirt was quickly followed by a black suit jacket. From the same compartment a pair of black suit pants extended down and formed around the android's legs. The android's gold-colored gauntlets retracted into its forearms, revealing human-looking hands. The gold boots retracted into the android's legs and were quickly replaced by black dress shoes. A flesh-colored facial covering slid out of the android's forehead and down invisible tracks along the side of its face to cover the dark red of the android's face. Once the transformation was complete, Phil found himself looking at his own identical twin standing in front of him.

Phil reached out his right hand; the android reached out his left. Phil cocked his head to the left; the android cocked his head to the right. Phil opened his mouth to speak; the android did the same. "Nice tie," he complimented the android, nodding to the Captain America tie, which still had the price tag attached. Turning to Tony, he said, "He's definitely realistic enough. Now what can he do?"


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Thanks to Qweb, Marvel-Tolkien Fangirl, and Susan M. M for reviewing since I last posted. After this chapter there are 2 left; I've already started writing my next story, which will focus on Scott Lang.

This chapter begins right at the end of "Stark's Security Situation" (with the first lines of this chapter).

* * *

"So now only one question remains," Steve said authoritatively, with a meaningful glance at all the Avengers gathered around the room.

"'Who tried to kidnap me?'" Pepper supplied nervously.

Phil waited a moment before clearing his throat and saying, "Well, whoever it is, we don't have enough to find out who it is tonight. Odds are he'll find us sooner or later. But there isn't anything we can do about it tonight."

"Before we need to go back, I'd kind of like to look around the Tower. Anyone else interested?" Lang commented, looking around at the others.

Seeing a chorus of nods from the other members of his team (except Rhodey), as well as Maximoff, Foster, and Marc Spector, Lang gave Tony a look.

Tony turned to Rhodey and asked, "Could you show them around?"

"Sure," Rhodey replied, walking over to the elevator.

"Just keep them out of my lab," Tony called after his friend's receding form.

Pepper looked around at those who were still left in the penthouse and said, "Now if you'll excuse me, I would really like to go and get cleaned up," before walking into the bedroom.

"I need to report in and let Director Fury know what's happened, and what we've discovered," Hill announced, walking toward the elevators. "I'll be in the Avengers command center if you need me."

"Since we're all here, how many pizzas you think we'd need?" Tony asked rhetorically, glancing around the room.

"I'd say about a dozen if you're offering, Stark," Phil smirked.

"I will be back," Tony replied, heading to the bedroom.

"I need to change out of my uniform," Steve said to the room. He walked to toward the elevators, followed by Natasha, Clint, and Bruce.

Before Clint and Natasha could step onto the elevator, however, Phil put his hand on Clint's shoulder and nodded toward the far corner of the penthouse. Once the penthouse was empty apart from the two of them, Phil began, "I've wanted to talk to you since waking up."

"Well why didn't you?" Clint demanded, hurt evident in his tone.

"Director Fury refused to let me off the `carrier and refused to let you on," Phil answered slowly. "He thought it was in your best interests to avoid any contact with you, since the minute I called you, the Council would know, and then they'd come in and pull you apart trying to figure out how the mind control worked."

"I thought you were dead," Clint said angrily. "I thought it was my fault you were dead."

Phil put both his hands on Clint's shoulders and looked him in the eye. "That's what I've wanted to talk to you about," he said. "It was not your fault."

Clint pushed his hands away and averted his gaze. "You know, that's exactly what Fury told me in our debriefing the day after the battle. Tasha said the same thing every five minutes for our first week in Florida, and even now she says it at least twice a day. The three of you saying it doesn't make it true."

"Clint, what do you remember from while you were under Loki's control?" Phil asked.

"Snatches," Clint responded immediately, looking off into the distance. "Bits and pieces. It's like my mind was being over-stimulated, and everything is fragmentary. Some of the fragments are clearer, but most are just fuzzy. I don't even know if the fragments I remember are what actually happened or just part of Loki's game. But everything I remember is tinted blue."

"Have you seen the footage that S.H.I.E.L.D. recovered from the Dark Matter Base? The attack in Stuttgart? The attack on the helicarrier?" Phil prodded, already suspecting the answer.

"I downloaded all that footage onto my iPod the morning we were on the `carrier to debrief," answered Clint, giving his handler a look. "I must have watched all of it at least ten times in the first two days after the battle. Until Tasha found out about it and used my iPod for target practice."

"Whose idea was it for you to shoot Director Fury?" asked Phil, catching his agent's eye.

"Loki ordered me to kill him. The voice in my head told me to shoot him in the head."

"Were you able to resist?" Phil pushed.

"No; it wasn't an option."

"_Did_ you resist?" Phil prodded further.

"I pulled my gun out of its holster. I brought it up toward the Director's head. I pulled the trigger while it was still aimed at his chest," Clint responded, looking off into space.

"So you resisted the irresistible."

Clint remained silent, lost in thought.

Phil continued, "How about when you reached the loading dock and shot at Agent Hill?"

"Well, obviously all my shots went wild," Clint replied, "unless you're going to tell me the Hill who came with you in the quinjet is another one of Stark's robots!"

"And how often does that happen to you?" Phil asked with a knowing look.

Clint thought for a moment before answering, "The last time I needed more than one shot to hit a target with any weapon was my first day in the Army. The last time I needed more than two was the first time I picked up a bow at the circus."

"Okay," Phil said, "so how about the attack on the helicarrier? How did you miss your shot at the Number Two Engine?"

"I didn't factor in the wind on that shot," Clint responded.

"You, 'The Amazing Hawkeye,' one of the best marksmen in the world with any gun, bow, knife… _anything_, forgot to compensate for the wind?" Phil said mockingly. "When have you _ever_ forgotten to compensate for _any_ variables?"

"The first time I ever shot a bow," Clint answered slowly. "I missed the target completely on my first two shots, and Trick Shot caned me both times, forced me to factor in drop. Since then, I've never forgotten to calculate drop, wind, everything, into the trajectory for every shot. Except that one."

Phil thought a moment before asking his next question. "So how many ways do you know to destroy the helicarrier with your special arrows, a small army of commandos, and surprise on your side?"

"I stopped counting at 387," Clint admitted sheepishly.

"When we left the Chesapeake to come up here, the helicarrier was floating on its own power," Phil told him. "How is it still even operational after you attacked it?"

"I… forgot."

"A man with your memory and eye for detail suddenly _forgets_ on a mission?" Phil observed. With a laugh he added, "Maybe I made a mistake in recruiting you!"

Without giving the agent a chance to respond, Phil asked, "When you and Tasha spar, who usually wins?"

Clint thought for a second and said, "We're pretty evenly matched, though we both typically hold back the slightest bit so we don't kill each other."

"And if one of you weren't holding back and the other was, who do you think would win?"

"Whoever wasn't holding anything back, obviously," Clint shrugged.

"So what do you remember from your fight with Tasha on the `carrier?" Phil asked.

"Almost nothing," Clint answered, looking away. "I remember the smell of her hair. I remember the color of her lips. I remember the feel of her uniform. But I didn't know if it was something happening at that moment or if it was a memory. I don't even remember anything of the fight itself."

"Would it be safe to say you didn't know what was going on?"

"Maybe," Clint replied. "I—I guess so."

"But even with that you still resisted Loki's mind control strongly enough for Tasha to overpower you," Phil observed, giving the agent in front of him an admiring look.

"But, Phil, I still killed people—friends! colleagues!—for Loki! How many agents died during the attack? All those deaths are my fault!" Clint burst out vehemently.

"I watched all the footage from the attack; one of those side benefits of being confined to a hospital bed for two weeks," Phil responded calmly. He put his hands back on his agent's shoulders, looked him in the eye, and continued, "I counted at least 60 people you could have killed on the helicarrier but didn't. Of all the agents who _did_ die from arrow wounds, at least half had otherwise non-fatal wounds but died from blood loss because they couldn't be treated quickly enough in the confusion of the fight. Those who did not die from arrow wounds are no more your fault than the civilians killed in Manhattan. Those who _did_ die from arrow wounds died _in spite_ of your actions, not _because_ of them."

Clint looked back into Phil's unflinching gaze. He whispered, "I still can't believe that I'm not responsible for any of the things I did under Loki's control."

"Believe it, Clint," Natasha said, joining the conversation for the first time. She had just gotten off the elevator. She looked as though she had just gotten out of the shower; her hair was still wet, and she wore casual pants and a tank top. "I don't blame you for anything you did to me when we fought. Fury said on the `carrier that he doesn't hold you responsible for anything that happened between your capture and when I rescued you; he even said he thought you were a hero for resisting. He's going to convince the Council to see it his way, too."

"And I don't blame you for being captured, either," Phil added, turning from Natasha to look Clint in the eye again. "In fact, I admired your tenacity for fighting so hard against the mind control. Everything I did from that moment until my supposed 'death' was for the express purpose of rescuing you. When I went to confront Loki, I was doing so freely and gladly, in the hope that my action would help Natasha to secure your release from Loki's mind control."

Clint laughed and smiled. He commented, "That sounds almost exactly like something Vision told me when we first met."

"After you were captured, I actually put a notation in my file that if I were to be killed by Loki, you were to receive a message telling you exactly that," Phil said.

"When the VISION android was brought online, he saw that notation in your file and elected to mark it as complete," JARVIS interrupted overhead at that moment. "He believed that it would be more beneficial for Agent Barton to hear that from him, with your voice and appearance, than to hear it from another S.H.I.E.L.D. agent."

"It actually did help," Clint nodded.

"Yeah, every so often, Stark has his moments!" Phil joked.

"Phil…" Clint began. "Thanks." He pulled Phil into a hug. Then he let Phil go, turned to Natasha, and nodded. The two assassins walked to the elevator together.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: There is still 1 chapter left, which I will post tomorrow. I'll also post a preview for my next story either tomorrow or Sunday. Thanks to all those who have read, followed, favorited, and reviewed this story!

* * *

Steve Rogers walked up to Phil shortly after the two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents had left him to go down to the team's living quarters floor. Steve had changed out of his uniform and into a pair of athletic pants and T-shirt. He was carrying a three-ring binder under his left arm.

Steve looked at Phil awkwardly and said, "I'm sorry I never signed your trading cards, Agent Coulson, especially now that they're ruined…"

"Wait, ruined?" Phil asked, confused.

"Yeah, Director Fury showed them to me and Tony when he was telling us how you had 'died.' He said you'd still had them in your jacket pocket when you went to confront Loki. They were all covered in your blood," Steve responded.

Phil sighed with sudden realization, put his hand up to his forehead, and shook his head. "We thought you would need a push to bring the team together," he said slowly. "Kind of hard to have a team of superheroes called 'The Avengers' without giving them something to 'avenge,' right? Actually, that's exactly what was running through my mind while I was dying down in the detention center: maybe my death would do the trick, _give_ you something to avenge. I didn't think Nick would go _quite_ so far with my death to do it, especially not ruining my cards… They were in my locker, not my pocket."

"Oh. Well, anyways, Tony took your cards after the battle," Steve continued after a minute. "He wanted to put them in the Avengers exhibit of the museum downstairs. Actually, he wanted to dedicate an entire room to you, but Fury threatened to set the Abomination loose in the Tower if he did that! Something about your existence being classified information… Anyways, now that you're… well… not actually dead, we both decided that you should have them back." Steve pulled the binder out from under his arm and opened it. "So, here are your cards, signed and everything."

"Thank you, Captain Rogers!" Phil gasped, reaching out and taking the binder in his hands. He sat down in the chair behind him and opened the binder. The first thing he saw was a card protector filled with his Captain America trading cards. He looked at his favorite, which showed Captain America holding his prop shield and saluting. The top left corner was covered by a bloodstain, but the words "Steven G. Rogers, Capt., U.S. Army" were legible in black ink over the stain. Each of his beloved cards was signed in similar manner.

Phil turned page after page: the cards with Captain America were followed by cards with each of the Howling Commandos' profiles. "These cards weren't released until after the war ended, when the Commandos' identities were declassified and the Army acknowledged their part in the war," Phil said, showing them to Steve.

The final card showed the seal of the Strategic Scientific Reserve. "This card was never released to the public, since the SSR remained classified until the '60s when it dissolved and reformed into the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division," Phil told Steve. "In fact, even the seal itself is still classified. The card was only been given to SSR members, which made it the hardest one to track down." Phil stopped when he turned past that card protector. There was a divider. He looked up at Steve in confusion.

"I also added something else to the binder," Steve said awkwardly, noting Phil's expression. "I've been doing a lot of drawing since I woke up," he explained. "It's helped me to cope with the sudden transition from World War II to the 21st century, and being all but alone here. So far, with little else to do, I'm working on my tenth notebook…"

Phil turned the page and looked at the card protector that followed. It held handmade drawings of nine Captain America trading cards. Each was signed "SGR" in the bottom right corner. Page after page of handmade cards Phil examined: all of his bloodstained cards, hand-drawn, nearly identical to the originals. "These are amazing," he said at last, looking up at Steve in gratitude. When Phil reached the last page of cards, he turned the page one more time and saw that there were still more drawings in plastic protectors after them. The first one was of Captain America, Iron Man, Thor, Hulk, Hawkeye, and Black Widow standing in a ring surrounded by the shadows of Chitauri. Phil recognized the scene from one of the news clips he'd watched after the Battle of Manhattan. Phil stared at the drawing for a long moment before looking up at Steve in wonder.

"I gave a few of my drawings to Vision when I first met him; I didn't think I would be able to give you any, so I wanted to do something nice for him instead," Steve explained with a shrug. "Now that you're not dead, I think it's only fitting for you to have some, too."

Phil turned back to the binder and flipped the page. The next drawing showed Avengers Team B—War Machine, Ms. Marvel, Ant-Man, Mockingbird, Power Man, and Iron Fist—standing together on Park Avenue surrounded by destruction. War Machine's arms were raised and shooting in opposite directions, and his mini-gun spat fire behind him. Flanking him were Mockingbird to his right and the Heroes for Hire to his left. Mockingbird's bō-staff was in mid-swing above her head, while Iron Fist pumped his chi-ringed right fist into the air. Power Man held a light pole in both hands like a baseball bat. Ant-Man was barely visible as a speck riding a hornet directly above Mockingbird's head. Ms. Marvel hovered in the air directly above her team, hair fanning out behind her head as though caught in a gust of wind, beams of light extending from her palms in both directions.

The next page was a drawing of Avengers Team C. Moon Knight stood in front, holding his golden ankh-shaped truncheon in his right hand. Scarlet Witch hovered just off the ground to his right. Slightly behind Moon Knight stood Doctor Strange, with his eyes closed and a small talisman held in front of him. Goliath stood in the background, towering over the rest of the team, arms in the air.

Following the pictures of the three Avengers teams, Phil saw a picture of Steve Rogers in his Army uniform next to a dark-haired woman in a knee-length dress with a pistol in her hand. On Steve's other side was a man wearing the uniform of a U.S. Army sergeant. He immediately recognized the man from his trading cards, but the woman's face only looked vaguely familiar. "Who are these?" Phil asked curiously.

"The woman is Agent Margaret Carter, a British MI-6 agent attached to the Strategic Scientific Reserve," Steve explained, pointing. "The man is Sgt. Bucky Barnes, my best friend. He died when he fell off a train in the Alps."

"I recognize both names," Phil nodded. "Sergeant Barnes was one of your Howling Commandos, your second-in-command if I remember correctly, until he died. Peggy Carter was one of the founding members of S.H.I.E.L.D., back when it first changed from the S.S.R. to S.H.I.E.L.D. I even had the privilege of meeting her a few years back; she actually helped me finish out my card collection. She's a bigger fan of yours than I am!"

"I saw that she was still alive in the briefing papers Director Fury gave me," Steve acknowledged. He looked away to hide the tears that had sprung into his eyes on seeing the drawing. "I still haven't been able to bring myself to call her."

Phil put his hand on the super soldier's arm. "I know she would appreciate it if you did," he said knowingly.

Steve nodded hesitantly, cleared his throat, and said, "There's still one more drawing in the binder that you haven't looked at yet."

Phil flipped the page and saw his own face staring back at him. The drawing showed him standing in the detention center. A determined expression was on his face. He was holding that experimental weapon in his hands, with a beam of fire erupting from the barrel. The drawing showed the beam of fire just hitting Loki square in the chest and a look of surprise starting to appear on Loki's face. "I sure _wish_ it had gone this way," Phil commented a minute later, looking back up at Steve, who was still standing in front of him. "These are absolutely incredible! I don't know what to say!"

Steve smiled and said, "Just promise you won't get yourself killed—again—and bleed all over them—again!"

"I'll put a note in my file that Director Fury is not permitted to smear blood all over my drawings," Phil replied wryly.


	8. Chapter 8

AN: Thanks to all those who have read, favorited, followed, and reviewed this story. I've already written a good chunk of my next story, "Avenger Origins: Ant-Man," so I will post a preview at the end of this chapter, and start posting the story soon when I'm done writing it.

* * *

Phil walked over to where Tony was standing at the bar. On seeing Phil walk over, the VISION android fell into step next to him, stopping a couple paces from the bar. Phil stopped at the bar a couple feet from Tony and set down his binder of drawings on the counter. Tony glanced up at Phil from his scotch. He cleared his throat and said, "So… I wasn't expecting to see you again, Coulson…"

"Actually, it looks like you were expecting to see me _everywhere_, Stark," Phil smirked, gesturing toward the android.

"Yeah, about that," Tony responded, following Phil's gesture with his eyes. "It was an awesome idea back when you were dead—designing my badass security android to look like you and mimic your personality. Hell, when Blondie found out, he called him a 'fine tribute to a good warrior and friend.' Of course, now that you aren't really dead any more, it's more like I have a creepy fanboy obsession with you…"

"I'm… touched?" Phil said, giving Tony an awkward look.

"Would you like me to change him a little?" Tony asked abruptly, turning to look Phil in the eye. "I could give him a longer nose, maybe a beard. Change his skin tone… Hell, I could even give him a Black Widow obsession instead of the Captain America obsession!"

"If you did that, I'm pretty sure Romanoff would rip your android apart piece by piece with her bare hands, density-enhanced plating or not!" Phil observed with a snort.

Phil turned to look at his robotic counterpart, who stared back at him. The two stood there silently for a moment before coming to an unspoken agreement. Phil turned to look at Tony and said, "No, I actually kind of like him the way he is. Besides—" he smirked.

"Now I can always have my eye on you!" Vision chimed in.

* * *

Coming Soon: _Avenger Origins: Ant-Man_

* * *

"_Lang, sign here."_

"_Gee, thanks," Scott Lang responded, grabbing the extended clipboard from the prison warden. He quickly read over the forms and signed his name on the line at the bottom of the page. Once he had handed the clipboard back, the warden pulled a clear plastic bag out of a crate on the floor and dropped it on the counter in front of him. Scott looked at the bag. "So who do I have to thank for the wonderful accommodations?" he asked sarcastically._

"_Just take your stuff and go, Lang," the warden growled._

_Scott grabbed his bag, turned on his heel, and stalked toward the changing room. He violently pulled off his prison uniform and exchanged it with jeans and a red-and-black T-shirt. He tossed the orange jumpsuit into the corner, stuffed his personal effects into his pocket, and threw the plastic bag into the corner on top of the jumpsuit. He walked out of the changing room without a backward glance. As he reached the prison exit, he pulled out a pair of sunglasses and slid them on. "Well," he muttered to himself, pushing the door open, "I guess I gotta get busy living."_


End file.
